


Cell Block Tango

by pxncxyprxp



Category: Bandom, Chicago (2002), Fall Out Boy, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, musical - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Crack, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:22:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4035022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxncxyprxp/pseuds/pxncxyprxp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a crack based off the Cell Block Tango in Chicago the musical</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cell Block Tango

**Author's Note:**

> \--crack--

Frank was slumped against the cold wall of the cell, cigarette balanced between his feminine lips. One leg was bend up so his thigh was against his chest, his other dangling, not quite toughing the floor. Surrounding him were several other young men around his age, all dressed in the same repulsive orange overalls. They were all here for the same reason; murder.  
“So, why are you here?” asked the man to the left of Frank, Ryan. He was a tall and skinny man, no older than 21, with light curls.   
“Y’know how people have these little habits that get you down?” Patrick said, flicking his lighter with his thumb. “Like…Pete. Pete, he’d like to chew gum-no. Not chew. Pop.” He spoke with venom on his tongue. “So, I came home this one day and I’m really irritated, and I’m lookin’ for a bit of sympathy. And there’s Pete, layin’ on the couch, drinkin’ a beer and chewin’-no. Not chewing. Popping. So, I said to him, I said, ‘You pop that gum one more time...’” He let out a sigh and everyone knew what was coming next. “And he did. So, I took the shot gun off the wall and I fired two warning shots. Into his head.” A general noise of agreement came from the circle, and Patrick continued to spark his lighter.   
Ryan sat up a little and played with the hair from the back of his head. “I met Brendon Urie from Salt Lake City about two years ago, and he told me he was single and we hit it off right away.” To the group it hardly sounded like the start of a murder story, but let him continue. “So, we started living together. He’d go to work, He’d come hole, I’d fix him a drink, we’d have dinner.” Losing interest, Frank tipped his head back against the concrete wall. “And then I found out. ‘single’ he told me? Single. My. Ass.” An array of ‘ohhs’ and sniggers came from the circle. “Not only was he married. Oh no. He had six wives. One of those Mormons, y’know.” He set some cards on the floor infront of him, sorting them for a game of solitaire. “So, that night when he came home from work, I fixed him his drink as usual. Y’know, some guys just can’t hold their arsenic.” He said with a smirk on his lips, a laugh emerging from the group.  
Billie was the next to speak. “Now, I’m standing in the kitchen, carvin’ up the chicken for dinner, mindin’ my own business. In storms my husband, Mike, in a jealous rage. ‘You been screwin’ the milkman’ he says. He was crazy, and he kept screamin’, ‘ you been screwin’ the milkman.’” He stopping, and ran his fingers through his hair. “And then he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife. Ten. Times.” He placed an unlit cigarette between his lips and sparked it, tipping his head back and he took a drag.   
Next to speak was a slender, blonde boy no one knew the name of. He explained his story in what they were almost sure was Hungarian, but no one quite understood. Ryan spoke up, “But did you do it?” The man replied instantly with fear in his voice. “Uh uh. Not guilty.” Before hiding his face behind his knees.   
Frank took the cigarette from his mouth and held it between his middle and index fingers. “My sister, Lindsey and I had this double act, and my husband, Gerard, travelled around with us.” Revealing this got him a few suggestive looks, but he shrugged them off and continued. “Now, for the last number in out act, we did these twenty acrobatic tricks in a row. One, two, here, four, five, splits, spread eagles, backflips, flip flops, one right after the other.” Taking a drag from his cigarette, he sucked his lip, as if still angered by the story. “So, this one night before the how, we’re down at the hotel Cicero, the here of us boozin’, havin’ a few laughs. And we ran out of ice, so I go out to get some…I come back, open the door, and there’d Lindsey and Gerard doing number seventeen- the spread eagle.” He paused, letting it sink in. “Well, I was in such a state of shock, I completely blacked out. I can’t remember a thing. It wasn’t until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands I even knew they were dead.” The anger that had boiled up inside from telling them what had happened caused him to stub out his cigarette very harshly on the cell wall, right next to Ryan’s head.  
Finally, the last one left in the circle spoke, a young man named Thomas. He had just turned 18. “I loved Bernard Wyatt more than I could possibly say. He was a real… artistic guy, sensitive, a painter; but he was always trying to find himself. He’d go out every night looking for himself. And on the way he found Taylor, Hayley, Maria and Mikey.” He counted out the names on his fingers as he said them. “I guess you could say we broke up because of artistic differences. He saw himself as alive. And I saw him dead.”


End file.
